She
was standing in the kitchen in her home. Waiting for the water to boil for her
tea.

Suddenly
she found herself gently swaying and moving to some happy rhythm. There was no music playing.
Neither on the audio system that was in the room, nor on the little CD player in
the bedroom upstairs.

Yet
the music was making her dance. She was not only able to hear this music but
also catch its rhythm so well that her feet, her arms, her body was moving in
harmony with it. It was beautiful. It was happiness. Happiness that needed no
reason, that simply was, within.

As
the water came to a boil and her hands busied themselves with the making of the
tea and toasting two slices of the sourdough bread, she remembered. The night
before in her sleep, this happiness within had first revealed itself. And this
morning she was still experiencing it.

Sitting
at her kitchen table and enjoying her breakfast, she kept remembering more.
This time with more details, clear details. The night before while sleeping she
had experienced a strange sensation, whose clear memory had lingered on in the
morning. She had been reading one of the books of her Guru, and when she felt tired she
simply relaxed into a silent meditation for few minutes before going to sleep. It was a relaxed
and relaxing sleep, almost like a baby, on a futon on the
floor in her study where she always read and meditated. And sometime during the
night or early morning hours she felt an unusual sensation in her body. It was
as if something was gently moving inside very slowly, sort of like something crawling inside – up from the tummy and into her head. The gentle, soft and upwardly moving sensation was very real. Her head (or was it something else inside her head – she couldn't tell) was spinning for a few seconds. Then the spinning stopped. She
remembered thinking in her sleep that she should not open her eyes, that she
should keep her eyes shut because if she opened them that spinning would stop,
the whole sensation would go away. And she didn't want that to happen. She
wanted to fully experience that experience, to be fully aware of what was
happening, to witness her inner experience while sleeping on the outside.

Perhaps
it was all a matter of only few seconds. But it felt much longer to her. She
felt so light and happy after this experience; the feeling was as real as it
can be. As if something had sort of gone free, as if some internal blockage had
been set loose all by itself. And all this while she slept.

May
be the music within started right when the knot had been cut lose. May be the
silence of the deep sleep gave birth to the sweet music within. Music that
leads one to silence.

Or
perhaps she dreamt it all, and her dream was a musical one. Music that awakens
one to a new dawn. Music that purifies. Music that frees one up.

As
her breakfast ended she came to the conclusion that the dancing to the music
within her that morning was a proof – at least for her – that she wasn't dreaming that sensation in the night. It had indeed happened. She understood
that it was in fact immaterial whether it was in the form of a dream or
something else. If it was a dream, it was one of those dreams that are truly
real, truly concrete. After all, how could she know – how does anyone know, for
that matter – what is dream and what is real? If she experienced something, it
is perhaps real, perhaps true.

She
was happy. She was dancing. Dancing to the music within. What more could she
ask from life? What more can one ask?